Scary
by Rachel-Jane Kensington
Summary: It's scary, what a girl will do for the man she loves. Inspired by but not based on Hannibal Rising. Rated T for mature themes.


***A/N: Sorry for the reposting of this. I accidentally deleted it and ironically it's one of the few piecess I have on my profile that I'm proud of, so I couldn't let it go without a fight lol. This ficlet was inspired by but is not based on _Hanibal Rising_, to which I claim no ownership whatsoever. **

**Scary**

Scary, what a girl will do for the man she loves.

I'm sure various things spring to your mind. Things desperate young girls give up, feelings they may put on the line. But the loss of virginity or trust are little compared to her true potential. The truth is, there is no greater weapon than a young woman feverishly, irrevocably in love. She will do anything to keep his approval, lay down any previously held morals, dance over any boundaries (or even graves). And, without a doubt, she would certainly hand over her sanity without so much as a second thought. The reasons are varied. Some girls seek only to do what is asked of them (whether it be directly or indirectly) in order to keep a man by her side. This girl is merely scared into her actions, backed into a corner if you will. She is also the majority, so selfish are the young.

Then, there are girls like yours. Girls who look so innocent and act so sweet you would never imagine the secrets they keep sewed under their skin. Vengefulness hidden in the shadows, their greatest wish isn't usually to bring pain to those who hurt them, but rather to those who hurt the ones they love. And as horrific as it sounds, creativity in how this pain is executed only serves to fuel the fire. You see when a female has dedicated herself to another human being her senses are blurred, not just around the edges, but entirely. She's walking around delirious night and day, twenty-four/seven. And there is no reasoning you can clear her mind with, no drug available to defog the smokescreen.

At first your ideas may haunt her, depending on which comes first: her love or your thirst. She may need some time for deliberation. But give her a story- a reason for why such desires deserve to be carried out- and she'll more than give in. Suddenly, there will be no more submission involved. She'll _want_ to do for you. Want to help, to prove herself, to avenge the fallen, punish the wicked. Because by now this has grown far beyond what _you_ may want. The things you thought _you_ wanted are now her every waking desire. She'll throw herself completely into these projects you propose and fall deeper in love with every word you speak, every promise of revenge.

You're probably starting to grow somewhat afraid of the fury in such young veins, the eerie light in her eyes that pierces through the fog of her mind like a lighthouse on a haunted island. Understandable. Almost _commendable_. Almost.

Because here's the irony: That is what's causing her to lose herself so passionately in you. The manic glint in your eyes, the passion and sincerity in your words, the loyalty you must possess to be so vengeful. She should be frightened by your ideas. But rather, she sees through the ideas and into the feelings that brought them about. And she loves you for them. For everything the rest of the world turns a blind eye to, for what they refuse to see. There are days when you look in the mirror and you see a monster. Days when you can't seem to get the blood off your hands and it plays like a scene from Macbeth. _Out damned spot!_

But when these things don't make her turn from you, you are surprised to find that instead of happiness for such loyalty, you can feel only resentment for her, and malice. Because the truth is: you never were a monster, you only wanted to be. Anything but human, anything to block out the reality of being alive. But she, this crazed girl with love in her hands and blood on her mind, won't let you be that monster. Not completely. She forces you to see the tattered bits of whatever humanity still lies within you. Holds them up to the light and let's the glare dance in your eyes. She'll never let you stop remembering because she'll never go away. Always there, always trying to make things better.

The truth is, she's making it worse. First she stole your dreams, now she's making you see that your actions haven't gained you any power or feelings of compensation at all. You're still a lost little boy. Still your mother's son. Things have gone too far. Eventually, you start to realize: Revenge isn't the only plausible motive for murder.


End file.
